“Skinny boys with desk jobs?”
A deep sigh tells him I’m not going to answer.
“Or, do you prefer…strong men, with pistols?” His voice is right behind me, he’s talking into my ear now. I swallow deeply as his fingers brush my hair away, exposing my neck. “Men that don’t ask politely, but rather take what they want.” His breath washes over the skin on my shoulder, and I sigh as his lips drop a gentle kiss.
I feel his hand slide onto my hip, gripping the bone and pressing seductively. Every molecule in my body begs me to stay, to turn around and let him take me. But my brain screams no, and I decide to give it one last try, to stick to my intelligent instincts and fight. I grip his hand and throw it off me, then spin around and swing my hand across his cheek. Surprising myself and Antonio, the slap is successful. I can feel it in the way my palm stings satisfyingly.
Shit. That probably wasn’t the best of choices. Fear once again rises within me as I watch Antonio rub his cheek and laugh low, devilishly. I quickly turn away, hoping to dodge him before he can grab me to no avail. His arm somehow wraps around my waist and holds me against his body. This time, I can feel every dip and swell of his body against my back, against my ass. He talks into my ear again.
“That was brave. And here I thought you wanted this.”
“No!” I argue and struggle to get free. My feet lift off the ground and kick violently while Antonio calmly holds me by the waist, pinned against him.
“So, you’re telling me you really do prefer skinny college boys?”
“No!” I repeat, my voice rising out of frustration and anger. The mere thought of Chad holding me like this is, firstly, impossible. The guy has the arm strength of twigs. And, secondly, it’s extremely unwanted. Gross, even. Immediately, I regret my momentary slip of character. I’ve basically admitted I feel nothing for Chad. “Fuck,” I say, hearing the dark chuckles behind me again.
“The truth always comes out, huh?”
I stop struggling, and Antonio wraps his fingers around my wrist before letting my waist go and pulling me toward the bed. I sit down with a huff, and he sits down beside me. Besides having lost my pride, I’ve lost my energy. I can’t fight this man anymore. I can’t lie to myself anymore. Comparing him to Chad makes things a lot more clear—I’d definitely rather have a dangerous, strong man take my virginity than a weak, fumbling idiot.
Antonio lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. His face is above mine, looking down at me with a certain kind of patience, and all his attention. I feel wanted, I feel special, to have this mafia man spend his time waiting for me to give in.
“You want this?” he asks, giving me one last out. I don’t take it. Instead, I give him the smallest of nods, watching him with trepidation. It’s no longer fear for my life, but rather fear for what will happen. Will it hurt? Will he be rough? Before I can even think of answers, his lips are on mine. Faster than before, he opens my lips with his tongue and pulls a sigh from deep within me. I can’t stop it now. I can’t tell myself I don’t want it anymore, because I do. I really fucking do.
Giving in to my desires, I lift a hand and slide it into his hair, kissing him back hungrily. His responding groan is slight, a mere grunt of satisfaction at my surrender. His hands are suddenly on my waist again, this time to push me back onto the bed and slide his hands lower, squeezing my ass and releasing a shaky breath into my mouth. He wanted this more than I realized. He truly held himself back because now he’s losing it. Kissing me with urgency, he leans on his elbow and uses his free hand to explore my body, now lying flat on the bed, willingly. His hand excites me as it runs down my side and grasps my ass again, pulling my body against him, against his thighs and his hard bulge. Eagerly I reciprocate, pressing myself against him and wrapping my leg around his. I can’t help it anymore. I need to feel him where no man has gone before.
“Ah, fuck, Mia,” he says breathlessly, appreciating my advances more than I thought.
His hand slides down and hikes my dress up over my ass, sliding his fingers over my lace panties and down between my ass cheeks. Down, until the tip of his long middle finger touches home base. I finally let my nervous breath out, sighing contentedly as he feels the heat he’s created in me through the material of my panties. As if in frustration, he lets go of me and stands up. I turn onto my back again and watch him unbutton his shirt. His eyes are locked onto mine, watching me as he reveals a torso better than I’d ever imagined. He’s bulky and ripped. His pecs swell out with a spattering of dark curls between them, and his abs are so defined they create shadows across his skin in the dim light. Next, he removes his belt, and I start to feel nervous again. I think the distance between us and the cold air washing over my thighs has brought reality back to mind.
Whipping his belt to the ground, he leaves his pants on as he lowers himself over me. I try to swallow my nerves, try to relax my limbs, but I’m scared. Scared of what he’ll pull from his pants, scared of how it will hurt me. His kiss helps me relax for a moment, and he drops his body to my side, lying on his elbow again, kissing me and touching my breasts with eager caresses. I feel the need take over again. I lift my hand to his cheek and touch him, explore him as well. My hand travels down, over his pec, feeling every contour of his abs, and he likes it. He pulls my dress up to my waist, revealing my black lace panties fully. Without pause, he pulls at the lace and settles his hand between my legs, cupping me with his fingers, sliding in between my folds.
I freeze. This is the first time anyone has touched me there other than myself. I swallow deeply and my nerves burst through the doors of my brain. Crap!Can I even do this? What if I’m no good at it?Will Antonio tire of me and never want me again? I’m still questioning everything when I feel him stop. He lifts his head and looks down at me, his hand still in my panties, but frozen still.
“What’s wrong?”
I gulp. I’m not sure what to say, do I tell him to stop? Or just keep going until it’s over? I can feel my ears and cheeks burning as embarrassment overtakes me.
“Mia…” His frown deepens. “Are you a virgin?”
I can’t answer. I rip my eyes from his face. I feel like a fraud, a stupid bimbo teasing him, then freezing up when it truly matters. I want it, so badly, but fear of the inevitable pain and of not being good enough for a man like him paralyzes me. It’s almost painful when he pulls his hand away. He gets up from the bed, leaving me there with my dress around my waist.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath, pulling his shirt back on and fastening his belt again. I feel ashamed. I feel disappointed in myself. I look at him again, hoping to find some connection still there, acknowledgment of some sort, but he doesn’t look at me. He straightens himself up and leaves, shutting the door loudly in his haste. Breathing heavily, I lay still and stare at the ceiling, my tears burning me as they travel across my temples and down onto the bed.
* * *
It’s justanother long night watching the shadows drag themselves across the ceiling as daylight once more slides across the walls of the room. My body wasn’t able to get any real sleep, but rather tightroped the line between sleep and consciousness. After I managed to subdue my own embarrassment last night, I was left once again with my own deep and troubled thoughts. Of my father, alone without me, and how we ended up in this whole situation to begin with. I found myself replaying the few memories I could from my childhood, trying to remember everything I can about being a Gallo, and all that came with it.
I’m reminded of a memory I didn’t quite know I had until now. It seems so distant that I’m not certain which part of my childhood it stems from. In any case, I think I remember sitting in a classroom getting through whatever assignment the teacher set, when all of a sudden, I felt this thud on the back of my head, and when I reached my hand round to feel what it was, my fingers met a wet, hard wad of strawberry gum. When I tried to pull it out, my hair clung to the gum and all the kids around me started laughing. Even worse, when I looked back to find the suspect, it became obvious that it was the boy in the back. The boy with the dark hair and a devilish glint in his eye. I can’t remember his name, even though he did this shitty thing to me. I remember looking back, and our eyes locking for a moment. He was menacing, fucking with me mercilessly, but it was only me. He didn’t screw with the other girls, and that confused me. If he wanted my attention, why not just ask? Why make me the butt of the joke?
It makes me think of Antonio now. Is there a difference between the romantic confusions of young boys and grown men? Does Antonio actually just want my attention by screwing with me the way he has? I guess I never would have given him the light of day had he asked “politely”—his word comes back to me. He was right. Asking politely for my attention would not have gotten it. Maybe there is a method to the madness of the male species.
I begin to question the extent of his humanity, though. Before last night I believed he was ruthless, that he would hurt me and kill my father without a second thought. But, after realizing my virginity, he backed away. What I can’t figure out is whether it was from a loss of interest or out of mercy. I’m painfully reminded of the fact that I don’t know this guy. I’ve been lost in fantasies of being claimed by the sexy villain, but is that really who Antonio is? And if not, what the hell am I doing here, if he won’t just take me as a ruthless gangster would? I don’t know if he’ll even come back now, after last night. Maybe he prefers experienced women. Maybe he’s already over the game he played with me, moving on to someone who knows what to do with a man like him. Maybe he already met her last night after leaving me. The pain I feel in my chest when considering that thought is unwelcome. I did want him, I opened myself to him, and I was rejected. Why the fuck does that make me feel so unwanted? He’s a mafia crook for Christ’s sake!
Like clockwork, breakfast is brought to me by Sophia.
“Mr. Moretti has requested that your door remain unlocked, from now on.” She tells me, smiling compassionately as if I’ve been blessed by the Gods. It makes me wonder how long she’s been serving the family, because she doesn’t seem extremely phased by having a girl locked in a room. She can’t be too old, no more than 60. Maybe her connection to the Moretti’s goes beyond just the job.